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Middle Ages Mumsnet

418 replies

AnyFuleKno · 15/01/2011 16:48

Dear mumsnet, mine husband hath broken his arm falling from atop the midden. How many leeches should I apply?

OP posts:
plupervert · 16/01/2011 22:50

And Lo! Dame Oliphant hath been releas'd from the Stockes and doth mingle among us. Let us link arms and wassail, for a Learned Dame is a Goode Neighboure!

P.S. With regard to the "ton": is cod King James Bible close enough for vague acceptability?

JaneS · 16/01/2011 22:54

Mistresse plu, this 'Kyng James' of whicche ye speke, ys almoost ane hundred yeeres later than the ende of ye 'medieval' tyme ... as Y see yn mine propechy glasse

NonnoMum · 16/01/2011 23:00

Methinks the two fearsome four-kneed grey creatures wondering amongst our small and humble village ist a strange and most happy coincidence?

Wonce agen, we humble wymen do heartily larf our asses off.

Shitemum · 16/01/2011 23:06

Ye be Fraeyks

plupervert · 16/01/2011 23:07
LadyThumb · 16/01/2011 23:19

Myne stomacher splitteth assunder wyth such merryment and gadzooking!!

Shitemum · 16/01/2011 23:19

bestiary.ca/beastimage/img365.jpg

Shitemum · 16/01/2011 23:20

Oh shyte, tis ages synce I postyed a lynk
bestiary.ca/beastimage/img365.jpg

Shitemum · 16/01/2011 23:49

Am I to be branded a thrydkyller?

YeButerfleogeEffete · 17/01/2011 00:01

This reply has been deleted

Message withdrawn at poster's request.

ElephantsAndMiasmas · 17/01/2011 00:16

I heerde that thatte Sir Gawain iss no bettere than he shoulde bee. Doe nat beleeve his tales of resistyng ye temptatiounes of ye carpettes of sondry memberes of womankinde. His name is echoed fromme place to place as a notorious Manne-Whore. It's naething but Swive, Swive, Swive, with himme.

I heere.

Speking of Noble Knytes, hast ye heerde of the novelle diversiouns provided by Sir Allain de Sucre? He calleth for hardye youngefolke to come to his Motte and trye their lucke at divers taskes befitting ye gentyle Knytes. If Godde causes ye Younge Squires to falleth down in theyre taskes, Sir Allain has them set Aflame and thrown from ye battlements. The villeins looke onne in much amusemente hwile Sir Allain lettes forth his quotidienne warcrie.

TheShriekingHarpy · 17/01/2011 08:09

This reply has been deleted

Message withdrawn at poster's request.

ElephantsAndMiasmas · 17/01/2011 09:39

Odds bodkins Mistresse Harpie, thou art surely a norty ladye to be punyshed in thisse wyse. Hast thou considerede shackynge uppe with ye locale Smithe, who hath ye meanes to rid ye of yon troublesomme artycle, and ywis hath greete shoulderes most befittinge a manne?

Covens & ye Unnatural Regimentes of Womene

Mine liege Lorde hath yeven we serfes an portione of smalle beere, forre to celebrayte thisse yeere of oure Holy Lorde 1411. Yette Y finde thatte Y hath receyved onlie nyne-tenths of hwat my idle husbounde hath gotte, though I laboure all ye houres Godde sendes. Ye wise menne telle me he receyveth more beere as ye "allouance of ye cocke", is this fayre?

jugglingjo · 17/01/2011 09:53

Mistress Elephantine, Dost thou fret to receeve nyne-tenths of smalle beere as thye goode lorde ?

Myne krystle balle doth speake unto me that in many centuryes hence womyn wilt rejoyce heartily to receeve a halve such rewarde for their faire travaille !

TheShriekingHarpy · 17/01/2011 10:00

This reply has been deleted

Message withdrawn at poster's request.

IFaithTheVasteManticore · 17/01/2011 11:22

Godwiven of Mumesnette

A sennight hence a Lorde and his fair Lady some miles hence did graciouselie bid us dine with themme. We did hie us hence with fair Wines of Fraunce, with Jewelles and Giftes as fitting such a Knighte and his Dame.

Yet when we arrived were, we founde that no frytour blounce there was, nor Buknade, nor Conys in Hogepoche, but Cheese of Macaraunie like unto that eaten in Nurserie by Childer.

Then upon our sitting to this Feaste, the Mistresse of that fair Castle did fall into such Merriemente as she had been sette uponne by Impes.

Uponne our leavetakning, that Knighte that had so kindlie bade us to dine did Goose me upon the Hinder Partes, that I did squeal like unto the hogges.

Stray my Wittes, for to think that this Knight and his Dame are chaungelinges, with the woodnesse of May seasone and the impes of the forest?

whydobirdssuddenlyappear · 17/01/2011 12:10

IFaith, verily the Knight and his Dame were doing as ye Normans do.
And thus I invoke Godwynne's Lawe.

IFaithTheVasteManticore · 17/01/2011 12:19

Thinkest though that upon ye sesoune of theyre riden to our humble mesuage thar for to festen, I should don as my Lord Husbaunde saith and them offer the Beares of Pomme?

ElephantsAndMiasmas · 17/01/2011 12:48

Yea Mistresse Manticore ( Y cleaveth to thy chaunge of nomme, for it is goodely) yeve them for provendere the renouned Bears of Pomme, that theye maie see theyr errours, and repent.

To Goose a Goodwyfe on heir Hinder Partes is no mattere for laughynge. [ye Shock]

Johanna ye Jugglere - say ye nat so! Fore Y werke fromme ye trumpinge of ye sparrowe til ye parping of ye ghastlie night-owle, and farre bettere thanne my godless spouse. Canne wommene nevere be free from thisse slaverie?

Suncottage · 17/01/2011 13:16

A Recipe for Gruel

Bit long winded though....

You will need the following ingredients: oats; water.

The following equipment is essential: a big pot; a big spoon; the Holy Bible.

On a blustery winter's day, with a chill in the very marrow of your poor, poor bones, take the big pot & carry it, trudging through snow, to the rusty spigot on the other side of the village. Weeping, use what little strength you have to turn the spigot until a woeful driblet of brackish water appears. Make sure you place the big iron pot under the drip, so that water collects in it. With luck, & prayer, you should find that the pot is about three quarters full before twilight, when of course the village curfew comes into effect. The evil Grand Vizier proclaimed so in his ukase, to make sure that all pious people are behind their latched & bolted doors by nightfall. Place the big pot on your oven & set it on full. Remember that it can take electric cookers longer to heat up than gas ones, but do not despair. Once your oven's maximum heat is reached, the water will bubble away like nobody's business. To prevent steam escaping, it is a splendid idea to cover the pot. If, long ago, when you were feckless, you lost or mislaid the lid of your pot, or if indeed your pot never had a lid, for not all pots do, you can of course improvise a lid using all sorts of debris strewn higgledy-piggledy about your hovel. Just be sure you use flame-resistant debris, please. Now then, while you are waiting for the water to come to the boil, you can go & find the oats while I take a well-earned nap. Let's have a little musical interlude. ?..

I am now fully rested and in tiptop condition. Let us press on without further ado, for by now your pot of water should be boiling. Please pay attention, as the next step, if fumbled, will put paid to your dearest wish, which is to make a successful pot of gruel. With your right hand, scoop some oats from the pail. Grasp the lid of the pot, if there is one, in your left hand, & lift it free of the pot. Cast the handful of oats into the seething cauldron & replace the lid. You may repeat this step once or twice, but on no account overdo the oats, as this will spoil your gruel making it too thick, & as the only remedy for this would be to add more water, you would have to return to the spigot, breaking the village curfew, and so risk being clubbed within an inch of your life by merciless curfew-cadets, & your gruel, imperfect though it may be, would then go to waste. Sin upon sin.

You are now free to allow the contents of the pot to boil merrily away, although of course from time to time you ought to brandish the big spoon in your fist & give the gruel-to-be a mighty stir. In the intervals between stirrings, you must on no account remain idle. This is the perfect time to read improving passages from the Bible. Indeed, why not throw open your door, stand upright & magnificent in your weed-choked yard, & declaim the scriptures in a booming voice for the benefit of whoe'er may be within earshot in the vast & pitiless night? Two little reminders, though. However resounding your declamation, do not allow into your tone even the most minuscule taint of vanity. Remember that you are merely a vessel, & a singularly unlovely vessel at that - a tarnished urn, say, or a grubby beaker. Second, do not forget the pot, for if it is neglected you are likely to make not gruel, but an inferno. Oh, I said two reminders, but there is a third. Use your cuff to rub a modicum of grime from your hovel window. Do you see a bleak & illimitable vista of ice & snow? Are you marooned in an Arctic wasteland? If so, you may succumb to the delusions of piblokto, in which case you should refrain from following the directions of this recipe until you are relieved of your symptoms & are restored to your usual vigour. I need hardly point out the dangers of cooking when you are bonkers, although I have written an excellent little book entitled "Safe & Simple Snacks For The Bedizened & The Fraught" which is charmingly illustrated. The original pencil sketch of a cream cracker has been framed & displayed on the wall of my splendid restaurant in Haemoglobin Towers. Where were we? Ah yes. Once the gruel is fully boiled, replace the Bible on your lectern, or somewhere at any rate where it will be safe from defilement, if such a cranny exists in your hovel. Hold the spoon in your right hand, removing the pot-lid with your left. Give that gruel one last stir. Remove from heat. Allow to stand for ten minutes. Using a monstrous ladle, transfer into pre-heated tin bowls, & serve. Best eaten with a spoon. Suitable for home freezing.

jugglingjo · 17/01/2011 13:41

Thia very morn I dids't mak afor my goodsel' a loverley drop o' gruel. Warmed the cockles of me 'eart on this cold day of first month. ( Methinks I talk more like unto Eliza in the storie "my faire ladye" with scorcery of moving picktuwers.

( I'm at home with my slightly sickly DS today and when he just asked what I was doing and I told him, explaining "we're all being medieval mums on Mumsnet today" he said "You Mums - weirdos " He then asked if I know any of you. When I said, "No, not really" he said "Never talk to strangers!" LOL )

Spacehoppa · 17/01/2011 13:49

Woe is me, for I have not chauncd pon the goodly grocer of tes'co an so my gruel be all of water for I have no oats withal. I be a humble peasant though so I will take great cheer in my fyne bowl of water.

HopeForTheBest · 17/01/2011 14:01

This reply has been withdrawn

This has been withdrawn by MNHQ on request of its author.

Portofino · 17/01/2011 14:05

I have heardest from yonder village that the varlet Liz Jones hath been found a wytche and will be burned at the stayke on the morrow. I must bizy myself with the mayking of ye old poppcorne.

Portofino · 17/01/2011 14:10

Recipe of ye day:

Pudding of porpoise. Take the Blood of him, & the grease of him self, & Oatmeal, & Salt, & Pepper, & Ginger, & mix these together well, & then put this in the Gut of the porpoise, & then let it boil easily, & not hard, a good while; & then take him up, & broil him a little, & then serve forth.

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